Sodding Festivities
by The Convergence
Summary: For Grace: With no interest in spending Christmas Eve with those John decided to invite over for a little get-together, Sherlock opts to visit his Pathologist.


**The Convergence Secret Santa 2016**

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 **For:** The wonderful Grace :)  
 **Character(s):** Sherlock Holmes  & John Watson  
 **Other Characters Used:** Mrs Hudson  & Molly Hooper  
 **Rating:** K  
 **Genre(s):** Friendship  & Christmas fluffiness galore!  
 **Message To Your Person:** I hope you have a fantastic Christmas, Grace, and enjoy every moment of it! Best wishes for the new year too!

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 **Sodding Festivities**

 _With no interest in spending Christmas Eve with those John decided to invite over for a little get-together, Sherlock opts to visit his Pathologist._

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"Poor Molly, working on Christmas Eve. Rotten luck." Mrs Hudson tutted for possibly the fifth time in less than an hour as she came bustling through Sherlock's flat door with a tray containing two mugs of freshly brewed tea and a plateful of biscuits shaped like Christmas trees. The petite lady weaved her way through the mess on the floor - boxes full of case files stacked high despite John's urgings for them not take another case until after Christmas - and set the tray down on the small coffee table between the chairs. With a quiet huff and a shake of her head, she set her hands on her hips though it was at that point that she realised Sherlock, who'd been stretched out on the couch with his fingers tented and tucked under his chin not five minutes ago, had vanished.

John, narrowed eyes still on the newspaper held mere centimetres from his face, reached a hand out and blindly swiped for a biscuit when Mrs Hudson slapped it away. The good doctor looked positively shocked, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly as he looked up at her with widened eyes. "Well what was that for?" He huffed, drawing his hand back to his chest as if he'd been stung. "Don't put them there if you don't want them eaten. Why even bother bringing them up in the first place?" John continued to mumble under his breath, shaking his head as he straightened his paper and went back to reading though this time with a scowl.

"John, where's Sherlock? He was there a moment ago." The landlady's brows furrowed as she turned to scout the space, knowing that he was quite possibly tucked away in some dark corner of the flat.

"Hm? Oh, he left a few minutes ago, muttering something about 'sodding festivities'." John mused with a slow bob of his head, reaching once again for a biscuit and this time, managing to snag one from the plate.

To that, Mrs Hudson's mouth lifted into a soft smile, the corner of her eyes wrinkling as she ran her palms over her skirt absentmindedly. "Certainly sounds like our Sherlock." She returned, clearly amused at the prospect of Sherlock getting in the spirit of Christmas, let alone taking part in the many 'sodding festivities' that particular holiday brought.

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It was practically silent in the morgue save for the steady tapping of Molly's foot to the beat of the jolly Christmas song playing through her earphones along with the odd clang of the tools as she set them down on the metal tray. She wasn't actually supposed to be working but the pathologist felt horrible for keeping the others from their families at Christmas time and so she'd offered to take the shift. So here she was, at half seven on Christmas Eve, tending to poor Mr Robert DeMarco, 68, who'd died from a long overdue heart attack.

"Probably not what you wanted for Christmas, huh?" Molly murmured almost pitifully as she snapped off her rubber gloves, pushing her stool back and dropping them in the bin before taking a seat at the bench in front of the microscope. She cranked up the volume of the music before slipping her phone back into the pocket of her lab coat, leaning forward to look at the sample on the slide.

The blasting music drowned out the sound of fast approaching footfalls and the telltale swish of Sherlock's belstaff as he swept around the corner and into the lab, shaking his head at her predictably; back to the door with her earphones in, shoulders hunched forward ever so slightly as she adjusted the microscope. He tutted aloud, thinking on how easy it would be for an attacker to catch her unawares, she was no good to him laying out on one of the mortuary slabs herself. So with unnecessary feline-like stealth, Sherlock approached and hooked a finger around one of the wires, giving it a good tug.

"You really ought to employ some kind of system to prevent just anybody from walking in, Molly." Sherlock chastised at a low whisper directly into Molly's ear and she leapt from her stool with wide eyes, a hand pressed to her chest as she tried to regain her breath.

"Sherlock! Don't do that! Otherwise I'll meet the same fate as poor Mr DeMarco." Molly breathed out, motioning to the body on the cool slab with a shake of her head. Sherlock gave a single-shouldered shrug, raising a brow as she straightened up and tucked her earphones away in her lab coat pocket. Her fingers busied themselves at the hem of her horrendous Christmas tree jumper - one with bells on it, Molly had pointed out to Meena excitedly when she spotted it in the store - as she glanced around the lab, unsure as to why Sherlock was there. "Is there something I can help you with?" Molly asked after a long pause, her mind running a mile a minute as she struggled to recall a request she'd maybe forgotten.

But Sherlock's easy response came before she could worry herself, "Mrs Hudson's incessant ramblings on how awful it must be for you being here on Christmas Eve are proving to be rather tedious after the third or fourth. Thought it wise to step out for a while." He replied shortly, seemingly paying her no mind and Molly shrunk a little as she leant back into the counter. "Though I don't suppose you mind." The pathologist's face scrunched up a little at that; she'd known Sherlock long enough to know that he was referring to her lack of a family. She was about to pipe up, give a weak defence that her cat, Toby, was surely missing her and she had plans to visit her mother over the holidays but Sherlock continued, "However, I have no impending cases, none of importance anyway, and no desire to spend the evening in Anderson's company. Why John asked him and Sally over is beyond me. Nobody even likes Anderson. Gavin's tolerable."

"Greg." She corrected instinctively, earning a look from Sherlock. "And what? You'd rather spend the evening in the morgue with me and Mr DeMarco?" Molly asked, frowning slightly as she tucked her hands away into her pockets, head craned upwards.

Sherlock scoffed at the needless question, "I believe that's what I said, yes." He'd taken a seat at the bench, one seat down from where she'd been perched a few minutes before the intrusion and Molly quickly joined him, her hands tucked between her knees as she gave him a small, skittish smile.

"Okay," Her lips continued to lift into a more prominent smile and she reached to brush stray strands back into the bun her hair was twisted into, feeling her cheeks start to burn as they stained pink when Sherlock gave a small, dimpled smile in return.

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When Sherlock returned to 221b Baker Street, he found John and Mary to still be chatting to Mrs Hudson about something or other in the kitchen and he hoped he'd be able to slip in unnoticed. He'd shrugged off his coat and unraveled his scarf from around his neck before he'd even stepped into the flat and so he set them down quietly on the nearest chair before moving down the hall.

"Where'd you rush off to earlier? Somewhere important no doubt? John asked, leaning against the wall at the end of the hall with an almost smug smile and an arched brow. Halting, Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at his friend, expression remaining placid.

"Of course. I paid Doctor Hooper a visit, would have been rude to let her spend Christmas Eve with only corpses to talk to. Where's your Christmas spirit, John?" He replied, aware John already knew just where'd he'd gone from that self-satisfied smirk. Sherlock still flashed a toothy smile, as if trying to irritate the good doctor and knowing him, he was.

John gave a quiet chuckle, the one that said 'I'm refraining from swearing at you right now' as he pushed himself away from the wall with the intention of returning to his wife's side and staying it was time to leave. Unfolding one arm from across his chest, John pushed his sleeve up to glance at his watch. "Sherlock?" He called from the end of the hall, waiting for the consulting detective to turn in his doorway.

"Merry Christmas."

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 **Disclaimer:** The Convergence Roleplay and any themes related to it belong to Rhya and Lena (links on profile). All OC's belong to their respective creators, all Canon Characters belong to their respective franchises and all credit for the fic itself goes to the Santa who wrote it.

 **The Convergence Roleplay:** Trapped in a new world, with no way out. Characters from 19 different worlds have been brought together and must struggle in a world that constantly creates more mysteries than it solves. With no new answers ever coming to light, they must start to wonder - is there really a reason why they're here?

The Convergence is a multifandom roleplay, featuring Supernatural, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Harry Potter, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, The Vampire Diaries, The Hunger Games, Merlin, Once Upon a Time, Divergence, Fox MCU, Star Trek, The Maze Runner, the DC Extended and Television Universes, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Mortal Instruments and House M.D and the various spin-offs. Check out the link in the profile for more information!


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